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Show us your Elvis!




mardigras_elvis.jpg

Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz

This is what happens when Memphis and Mardi Gras collide. Elvis ends up handing out beads at the Memphis Grizzlies game. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised … it was a surreal night from the start.

When I arrived at my hotel on Tuesday (I stayed at a Hampton cause I hate those damned ducks at the Peabody — quacking bastards) the TV was scrolling lists of school closings. I couldn’t figure out why they’d be doing that.

Then I saw the weather.

Radar showed an angry swarm of storms heading our way and everyone was battening down the hatches. When I stepped out of the hotel to go to the Grizzlies game, Memphis was in a state of blitzkrieg. Sirens were wailing and warm, random winds peppered with rain were whipping around. Way too warm for February. The kind of warm that carries a faint smell of tornado on it.

The FedEx Forum was almost empty. Partially because the Grizzlies suck, but mostly because sane people decided to stay home and hunker down. We enjoyed the game anyway. I managed to snag some beads without doing anything embarrassing. But after the game, we found out how bad the storms really were. Reports were already trickling in on storms that left dozens dead in Tennessee. Fortunately, Memphis dodged a direct blow. But it was one of those nights that made you glad the King was in the Building and protecting us from Ill Winds.

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Assorted Bob

Jass to the World …




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Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz

Sara Schwabe and the Yankee Jass Band jam during the Christmas party. I took only a few photos. I put the camera down after this, got distracted and never got around to picking it up again. But this photo is proof that the elusive and frightening Phil Pollard was running amok in KnoxVegas, performing unnatural acts with flexitones and terrifying small children. A good time was had by all …

I was worried about how the new house would work out. After 10 years in Hardin Valley, we had everything down to a science and knew exactly how to set up for the party. But the new digs were more than capable of handling the crowd. In fact, it had a cool way of dividing the party into three or four areas. Smokers were on the back porch. Band fans were in the great room. Rowdy types gathered downstairs at the Wet-Bar-turned-Tequila-Bar. And there as the inevitable bottleneck in the kitchen.

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Assorted Bob

Journalism with a capital J




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Originally uploaded by Suffering the Benz

Lara and I work with Kelly Brewer in the newsroom of The Albuquerque Tribune. I’m thinking this was shot sometime in the early ’90s. Those days were definitely the zenith of my journalism career. The capital J was like a living presence in the room, and when we weren’t trying to maim each other in fits of misdirected creativity, we were doing some damned good journalism. Breaks my heart that The Trib’s very existence is in danger right now.